Prayer and Pretenses
by Galinda-girl
Summary: Bruce is praying and Clark spies on him. Bruce must then explain the difference between religion and spirituality, but the two heroes find they must not jump to conclusions about the other's personal life. It's too easy to miss evidence. *one shot* Based on TRINITY and my own understanding of the characters.


I hate when Clark does this. I think he sneaks up on me on purpose just because he can. Of course, I have no evidence of this and I would hate to jump to conclusions. You miss evidence that way. I only know he's behind me because he purposely shuffles his feet.

"On vacation, Kent, or is this a less personal visit?" I hold my cowl in my hand. For a moment I consider putting the cowl on to meet him, but choose to turn toward him, unmasked.

So much for not jumping to conclusions. I expect to come face to face with Superman, but I should have known better. His bright clothing would have been a beacon in the dark of the Cave, his cape would have rustled. No, I am facing Clark Kent instead. In his ill-fitted grey suit and rounded glasses I meet Clark Kent.

I know what he's going to say before he says it. "I come as a friend, Bruce."

It's Clark. Of course this would be a personal visit.

Clark continues, though he knows I don't want him to. "I thought I'd find you here."

"Brilliant, Kent, to find the Batman in the Bat Cave." I fold my arms over my batsuit and watch him as he laughs. It's a Superman laugh, one he wouldn't dare use as Clark Kent.

"Well, I tried the front door first and your butler said Bruce Wayne was not available. Even for a reporter from the Daily Planet."

Clark tells the truth. As if I don't know he could hear me down here without even trying. Why did he come as Clark? He's in between his two personas, trying to decide if he should push his glasses up his nose or take them off completely. He decides upon neither and coughs slightly, an awkward Clark Kent cough.

"Was I interrupting something?" He finally asks what I hoped his manners would have brought up much sooner.

"Yes."

Clark looks at my batsuit, at the cowl in my hand, but knows enough to realize if I were on a case we would not be having this conversation. Or any conversation. He smiles, but like his whole demeanor in his Clark outfit, his smile is somewhere in between his two personalities: too subtle to be Superman's, too natural to be Clark's. "I'll wait upstairs then, Bruce."

I'm startled when he flies casually up the stairs instead of walking as I'd expect a man in a suit, even a super-powered man, to do. I turn my back as if he is none of my concern and retreat farther and deeper into the Bat Cave so I can pray as I had intended before the interruption.

I resurface to the upper levels of Wayne Manor dressed as Bruce Wayne the engaged host, and take my seat in an arm chair opposite Clark's. I don't fool him for a moment.

Alfred must have brought him tea, as a delicate porcelain cup is held in his large hands. He puts it down on a cloth napkin to avoid staining rings in the coffee table. His manners are never an act.

"I saw what you were doing. How you prayed."

My eyes narrow but I don't deny my actions. "You were spying on me."

He won't deny his actions either, but I don't expect a justification. "I heard a match strike." The candles I lit. Damn it. "And I was concerned."

He's a terrible liar but as always half of it is truth even though he wasn't concerned for an instant. "You were spying on me and I can take care of myself. Now if this is a personal call I suggest skipping ahead to its purpose. Shall we?" I smile a Bruce Wayne smile he sees straight through.

Clark sips his tea and almost gets up to leave. It wouldn't be a bad decision. "I didn't know you prayed, Bruce. I didn't know you were religious."

"I'm not." It's Sunday. No wonder he thinks…

I cross a leg over my knee and lean toward him. "I'm spiritual. There's a difference. And it's mainly meditation anyway."

He takes another sip of tea and moves his hair out of his face. For a moment he looks like Superman and I have to try to remain unimpressed.

"Meditation." He repeats. He doesn't know if I'm telling the truth. But I am. Mostly.

Then Clark continues because he has more to say even though he knows I'm not interested. This conversation ended as soon as he admitted to spying. "I'm just surprised, Bruce—"

I interrupt him. I don't have his farm boy manners. "You're surprised that I pray just like you? Don't jump to conclusions, Clark, you miss evidence."

He holds up his hands to sue for peace, but a Superman smile is in his eyes. "Now who says I pray?" He laughs and I hope it's not because I'm showing my shock on my face. "It's difficult to believe in a God when I have godly powers. I'm nearly immortal and invincible—" His words stop same as his laughter and he shoots me over a sheepish grin. If he thinks he's bragging he does not know the difference between bragging and listing facts. I wave my hand for him to continue. I'm genuinely interested. "If my people worshipped any deities I'll never know. But I can't worship the God of Earth because it's expected of me as the champion of America. Don't jump to conclusions, Bruce. You might miss evidence."

Even with the mockery, he must trust me a lot more than I expected to explain these ideas of his personal life. I nod in understanding, as close to a smile as I'll give him.

"Besides," he finishes, "I always thought religion was inherently selfish no matter what Ma and Pa said."

"That's why I'm not religious." That among other reasons.

"Right. You're _spiritual_." He mocks me again but in a good natured way he knows I can tolerate. It's all because he wants desperately to know what I pray for and no amount of super hearing or x-ray vision will make him a mind reader.

Before the conversation continues about spirituality, or worse, turns to small talk, I steer us back on topic. "But you didn't come here to talk about religion, Clark."

"You're right."

I know I am.

"I came to invite you out for dinner. You deserve one night off." He smiles a brilliant Superman smile and takes off his glasses to clean them, adding to the radiant effect. Perhaps he truly hopes he can win me over with his charm.

I charm back, blatantly, frivolously, with all the charisma of a billionaire to mock him in a good natured way. "_You're_ taking _me_ out for dinner? Is this a diner or fast food?"

Clark chuckles and puts his glasses back on. We drop our pretenses.

"I'm serious, Bruce. I told you I came as your friend and I meant it." He stands and offers me his hand.

I rise from my seat and we shake. "I appreciate the offer, but no. I'm in the middle of piecing together facts on a new drug that has surfaced across various crime rings." We both know it's not as urgent as I make it sound. I see him to the door.

"Meditation?" He turns back to ask, just as he steps out of the manor, his glasses sliding off his nose to reveal Superman's eyes.

"You should try it sometime."

I know it's coming, he has to have the last word. "I'll think about it." And I almost smile as he pushes his glasses back up his nose and bumbles his way down the steps and onto the grounds.


End file.
